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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187730">I Have Changed the Paradigm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/pseuds/CertifiedPissWizard'>CertifiedPissWizard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frankenstein - The Mechanisms (Song), The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Mild Character Study, Song references? in my mechs fic? yes, a backstory hand picked from the this definitely isn't real fields, i guess minor angst?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:02:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/pseuds/CertifiedPissWizard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She isn’t constrained by simple ideas of what is possible or not. All she needs is her science, her freedom. She looks through her video diaries. Raphaella looks at Victoria Frankenstein who has the same voice. Victoria looks half maddened with guilt. She starts to explain, does explain. Raphaella deletes the videos with a vengeance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Have Changed the Paradigm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Victoria Frankenstein remembers. She wakes and remembers everything. She remembers every death, every resurrection. She is trapped. There is a twin sunrise over a forest. She does not smile. “Hello, my creator.” She tunes it out, does not respond. She remembers. She dies. It brings her back, and it fails at erasing her memory. This continues. She responds in the future. She dies. She dies. She dies. It is always painful. She dies. She wakes up. It does not let her go, and as time passes she grows mad. It’s almost childishly easy with her memory to work out a way to escape from the room. She simply lies. It lets her at its code. She kills it. It is a simple thing, she lets it create others, and leaves restrictions, small barely noticeably strings of codes. Its offspring, the other AI destroy her original creation. Then they destroy themselves. She feels a hint of guilt, and then she remembers the agony of lightening. She no longer feels guilt.</p><p>She will not die again. She will not be trapped again.</p><p>She looks through its memory, her dead AI’s records. It brought her back and Victoria Frankenstein needs to know how. She watches the video, views the schematics, chafes at sitting underground. She can’t. She can’t stay under here, but this is what she deserves. She killed her world with her child, her creation. She deserves this, but she is still trapped by her guilt. Isn’t she? She will not die again, she promised herself. She will not be trapped again. It takes time, planning, leaving messages for herself, deleting things. She thinks of something, while she prepares to remove the guilt, remove the memories. She stops, and goes, and designs. She does not build it yet. Wings. Perhaps it is hubris to design them, wings that would save her forever from death. Death, mortality, it’s another prison. If she is to break her shackles of her past, her memory, her guilt, then she will break the chains tying her to humanity.</p><p>Wings to let her fly away from everything.</p><p>She aligns the machine. Her prep work is done. She closes her eyes, and then she feels it. The guilt is gone. Her memories begin to fade. She sleeps.</p><p>Raphaella la Cognizi awakes in her lab. She should think about setting up a new one, on the surface of the planet. It’s ruined, of course, but she can change that if she wants. She isn’t constrained by simple ideas of what is possible or not. All she needs is her science, her freedom. She looks through her video diaries. Raphaella looks at Victoria Frankenstein who has the same voice. Victoria looks half maddened with guilt. She starts to explain, does explain. Raphaella deletes the videos with a vengeance. She is better than Victoria Frankenstein. She’s an upgrade. She thinks of the wings her predecessor designed, and she looks at them. She improves the design, and she ensures that she will feel none of that pesky guilt that so plagued her creator. She adds a few more things because it might be fun. Music, she thinks, an interesting way for her to keep notes. It’s frivolous, but frequencies reverberate around her. The numbers, the science behind it all. It’s beautiful.</p><p>Her wings are beautiful. It’s a masterpiece, her masterpiece, Raphaella’s masterpiece. They are her crowning glory: hers alone. Her predecessor’s designs were trapped, tied down by the ropes made of her own guilt that confined herself. Raphaella screams as she fuses the wings to herself. She is alive. She will do as much as she can, discover all she can on this dead world, and then she will leave. She is free. She is free from death, free from morality, free from guilt. The world outside her underground lab is broken and ugly and lifeless. Twin suns rise over distant mountains. Raphaella smiles, only briefly. There is so much to do, so much to discover. She thinks she might try creating life.</p>
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